


Behold, a Beggar Born

by elwinglyre



Series: Unspeakable Unions and Vicarious Pleasures [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Between angel and demon, M/M, No more unrequited longings, Real fucking, Shakespeare only a fling, Voyeurism, eye fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 10:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20152033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwinglyre/pseuds/elwinglyre
Summary: Prompt: Aziraphale wants Crowley to fuck him, but he doesn't want to have to spell it out or use crude language. So he tries to tell Crowley what he wants subtly, and Crowley tries to get him to say it explicitly, teasing him.





	1. Chapter 1

If nice included watching someone you cared about for hundreds of years have sexual relations with someone else, well, Aziraphale could say the day had been nice.

It had not, however, been what he planned or expected. Sometimes the best outcomes came from what one does not expect. Then again, history often repeats itself.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and remembered where it all began. The large, open room where the summer solstice celebrations took place. Festival of Dionysus. A day of celebrations and debauchery. Crowley's fiery gaze as he took the lad. Although he couldn't hear the whimpers and moans, he saw, oh, how he saw, the lad's passion and pleasure as Aziraphale witnessed it from across that room.

The angel told himself many times since that was the reason why he let himself enjoy the same fruits again and again. His orgasm had been beyond his expectations. He finally understood why humans obsessed about sex. He could excuse himself the first time from the temptation of it all by simply stating he needed to know. But after that he knew he did it because he enjoyed it as he did a fine Bordeaux or oysters with a sumptuous meal.

What excited him most was watching Crowley during these orgies. His fantasy was to be the one who Crowley made love to, not the handsome god-like creatures who did.

He hoped that Crowley would get the idea. Come to him. Even if it was only a mere fling. But it didn't happen. Weeks passed, months, an entire year. Again they were at the Festival. Again he met Crowley there. And again, he ended up with someone else and watching Crowley from across the room. 

His fate seemed to be ever the voyeur, for that was the way it had gone since. Each orgy he attended Crowley came. Ah, yes, he came. But always with someone else. They'd stare longingly into each other eyes while taking or being taken by another.

Aziraphale did rather enjoy having the demon watch, but he'd longed for Crowley. The way Crowley watched, he thought Crowley wished for the same. Crowley always removed his glasses to watch. That had to mean something. But did it mean he really wanted the angel? Or did he wish to spend all of eternity only watching?

Yet, Crowley never once once made an advance, never once touched him intimately or said one suggestive word. Instead, they met time and again, drank wine, talked, and laughed, but never, no never went any further.

Tonight was no different. One of the free love experiences: a proper orgy at the Globe. They met, talked and paired off and fucked each other with only their eyes. And afterward, as always, instead of saying it was nice (or saying anything), they walked silently side-by-side. Before it was through the streets of Athens or Rome or Paris, tonight it was through the streets of London.

All Aziraphale could think about was how the demon's eyes never left him. Through the dense fog they burned on him just as they had when Crowley watched Aziraphale being made love to by the handsome playwright named William Shakespeare that he'd met only a week ago.

Their footsteps echoes off the cobblestone, up the steps to the stairway leading to Aziraphale's modest home. There they sat before the fire as the angel poured the wine and leaned back in his chair. His home was small yet comfortable and at least he didn't need to share. He sighed and gave Crowley a small smile. If only he weren't a demon.

"It's nice to have you here," Aziraphale said. "You really should stay in the city more. I miss your roguish wiles."

"And I miss how you're always happy to see me," Crowley said, clinking their glasses together as they sat on the heavy oak love seat. "Most aren't ever happy to see me. Although I surmise if I was here all the time, you'd tire of me."

Aziraphale sat forward, one hand in his lap, his other held the glass. "I'd never tire of you. I do so miss our old adventures." He sipped his wine and tilted his head. "We need a new one. We could help Will out at the Globe together."

"I don't have time for that."

"Still more enchanted with waging war than spending time with me? William told me you have Queen Elizabeth's ear." Aziraphale inched closer to Crowley.

Crowley pressed his lips together and watched his own finger trace the goblet up and down the stem. He sighed and gazed up at Aziraphale. "He does the same. Writing plays to please her. You must know that I've always preferred your company to that of any...human."

"Really? It doesn't seem that way at all. It didn't tonight."

"What do you mean?" Crowley raised his eyebrow.

"I mean you were with that lad Henry that Will is so keen on. The one he wrote all those sonnets to."

"And you were with William. What of it?"

"It's just that..."

"What?"

"I ah..." Aziraphale stuttered as Crowley's eyes blazed upon him.

"You what? What do you want, angel? I need you to say it."

Aziraphale's mouth opened. He found it difficult to say it. With a deep breath, he summoned his nerve. "I want you."

"I need particulars," said Crowley, shaking his head. "I need specifics. Do tell...I need you to say exactly what you want."

"I want you to do with me what you did with that lad Henry tonight."

"Not good enough. Tell me. What did I do to him that you want me to do to you?"

Aziraphale closed his eyes. "I want you to touch me."

"Open your eyes, look at me."

Aziraphale did. Crowley seemed closer, their thighs were touching.

"Tell me. Where? How?" the demon demanded.

"Why are you making me tell you this?" Aziraphale sputtered.

"Why wouldn't I?" Crowley hissed. "Why would I ever want to hear you tell me? Are you base? I've waited hundreds of years to hear you say it. I will wait hundreds more, but I don't wish to. Say the words."

Aziraphale swallowed, twiddling his glass in his hands, gathering himself, and wondering if he could do this.

"I don't want subtleties or euphemisms. I want every dirty, crude word you've ever heard coming from your angel lips. I want you confessing to me what you want me to do."

"And then? Will you?"

Crowley gave his feral smile. "I'll do them." He took the glass from Aziraphale's hand and set it on the low table in front of them.

"Yes. I can do that."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Then do it, angel."


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley lips curled, waiting.

All these years, Aziraphale thought _he_was the patient one. It seemed he was wrong. Crowley could wait. He could wait…what? Centuries? Aziraphale knew now, it was up to him. No need to pout. All that he wanted, all that he wished for was sitting next to him.

"I want...I want you to place your hand on my thigh," the angel stuttered, slumping down in the seat to make himself small.

"Very good. And?"

"And run your fingers up my breeches to my...groin."

"Yes?" Crowley purred, yet he refused to move one speck.

"And aren't you going to…do it?" the angel said, waiting.

The demon looked down at the angel's expanding breeches and grinned. "_Maybe_...but only after you're _done_explaining to me what you want me to do to _you_."

"Oh, no," Aziraphale said, suddenly sitting up straighter, fiercely shaking his head. "That's not what you agreed to do...after I tell you what I want, you said you would do it."

"Very well," Crowley sighed. "However, we need somewhere more comfortable than this oak monstrosity of a love seat. It's far too hard."

"What about my bed?"

Crowley smiled wickedly at the suggestion, but he waited for the angel to continue.

Crowley pressed against the angel and rested his hand on the angel's thigh. Ever so slowly Crowley slid his hand up the inside of his leg. With each movement, the angel's breath hitched. As Crowley's fingers brushed his crotch, Aziraphale gasped. Crowley rested his hand on his groin and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Aziraphale took a shaky breath. He hated to break them apart, but the promise of what was to come gave him the will to remove Crowley's hand and grasp it in his.

As he took the demon's hand, Aziraphale noticed the change in his eyes. No longer the teasing, taunting leer, instead his eyes appeared at peace, comforted. 

Aziraphale stood, pulling the demon up by the hand. "Come with me," he said. "If it's comfort you want, then it's comfort you will receive, and I will tell you exactly what I want you to do to me in my bed."

_Comfort,_ Aziraphale thought. _This __was__ a comfort to them both. Finally, the tension and longing gone, and at last we will fall into each other's arms._

"Lead on, angel."

Aziraphale guided them to his bedroom. Aziraphale bounced with glee. He knew that Crowley would be impressed. He opened the door, and at the sight, Crowley's eyes grew wide.

The huge bed spanned the room.

"I thought the love seat was a monstrosity, but this?" Crowley said, left almost speechless.

Aziraphale knew it was nothing compared to the bed. Fit for royalty, the bed was luxurious. It was the only object Aziraphale really put much thought into or cared about when it came to his home. He always hoped that one day Crowley would be there to share it with him.

It dominated the room. Raised on a platform, the elaborately carved four poster bed was draped in elegant tapestries depicting angels soaring across a starry sky. The angels' wings were in white with flecks of spun gold, the background in deep red and vibrant indigo. Although these hangings were suspended from the ceiling beams, they seemed an extension of the bed, complimenting the ornate carvings in the frame that depicted stars and sun with birds in flight. The bedspread was just as at elegant with its vivid colors and patterns.

The wood in the fireplace crackled and the flames danced, casting long shadowsacross the room, and Crowley hummed his approval. He stepped up on the platform. As he sat down on the bed, he sighed, for the down-filled mattress caressed and contented him. The bedspread’s soft silk welcomed him as well, and Crowley threw back the spread to reveal the fine sheets beneath. He reverently ran his hands across them.

The angel stepped in front of Crowley. "I want you to...remove my clothes. I want you to have me in this bed."

As he slowly sat next to Crowley, the mattress dipped and bodies bumped together. The demon's long fingers removed the angel's ruff and doublet. He reached for the ties connected to his breeches. Eyeing the treasure beneath, Crowley gently kneaded the crotch against the soft fabric. As Aziraphale moaned in anticipation, Crowley pulled the laces loose, and undid the hooks on his breeches.

"Please, please, touch me," Aziraphale begged.

"Touch what?"

"Touch my naked weapon, my seeping cock. My weeping manhood."

Crowley chuckled as Aziraphale flung himself back into the mattress. The demon slipped the breeches over the angel's white thighs and threw them to the floor. On his side, the demon slouched further down on the bed and pressed closer to the angel. He traced his hand down Aziraphale's white tummy and to the angel's eager, waiting cock. It leapt for joy as the demon touched it.

"Grasp it firmly in your hand and pull on it," the angel said. It was more like a plea than an instruction. "Make it leak."

One hand soothed the angel's side as the other slipped long fingers down the length of the angel's cock. With its fun attention, he grasped it tightly and began pumping.

"Guide me. Tell me," Crowley encouraged him. "What else do you want me to do to you?"

"I want your mouth filled with my cock," the angel said, his tone breathy with excitement as he tipped his hips up and thrust in Crowley's hand.

Aziraphale let Crowley arrange him on the bed. He lifted the angel's legs and moved them from resting off the side of the bed to the middle.

Crowley began to stroke the angel's cock again as he positioned himself between Aziraphale's spread thighs. The angel shivered and moaned as he watched Crowley hovering there with his mouth above his cock. He slowly parted his lips and stuck out his tongue to lick its weeping head.

"Take me into your throat," the angel gasped.

The heat of Crowley’s mouth made the angel turn to liquid.A sharp, bright pleasure coursed through him in a blur of arousal so sweet and smooth it filled him with sensations he never knew existed. 

It seemed impossible. This world of his that was once fragments, now collected, coalesced into something so profound. _Who was this demon that he could make him feel this way?_Aziraphale willed himself not to close his eyes to any of this. It was finally happening and all he had to do was tell Crowley what he needed.

"Take me deep inside. Let me feel the back of your throat bump against its head. That's it. Oh, Crowley, yes, yes."

With every bob of Crowley's head, the angel moaned, quavering little sobs of glory.

"Please! Drink my seed, then pluck me, fuck me."

Aziraphale came down his throat, and the demon drank him down as he was told. When Crowley was done, he sat up between his legs and licked his lips and began to discard his own clothing.

A void and longing that needed filling suddenly opened within the angel.

"Please. I need you inside me. Fuck me. Take me. Don't leave me alone and empty."

"Never, my angel," Crowley said pushing his fingers inside him.

Aziraphle wiggled and writhed as Crowley pressed deeper. 

"I need your cock." The angel's thighs shook with want. 

Crowley slipped his fingers out and braced one arm on the bed. In position, he held his cock in his hand and teased the angel’s opening before he pushed inside. Muffled moans of appreciation came from the demon.

Aziraphale reached one arm around the back of Crowley's head, his other arm embraced the demon's shoulder and back. He pulled Crowley head into the curve of his neck.

His hips rocked into Aziraphale. Slow and steady, he made it last. All the memories of watching this happen from across the room were the past.

The world became glittery and light danced before his eyes. He kissed the demon's hair, but it wasn't enough. The angel knew then he was going to come again.

"Kiss me, please, kiss me," the angel wept out.

Crowley turned his head, his corners of his mouth curled up as his lips brushed against the angel's.

"More," the angel begged.

Crowley covered the angel's mouth with his. His kiss deepened, his tongue searching, languorously sweeping the angel's mouth. Lips parted with a gasp.

"Tell me what you want," Crowley said.

"You. I want you. I've always wanted you."

With a sob of ecstasy and amazement, Aziraphale clung to Crowley. He gripped him tight and buried his head in the demon's neck as he came, and Crowley followed.

Pulses slowed with breathing. Crowley tucked the bedspread around them, enveloping them in the haze of exhausted pleasure.

_Still water_,Aziraphale thought. _That's what this feels like._ _Or riding the wind, soaring down from Heaven._

"Thank you," the angel said.

"All you ever needed to do was say the words."

Tears of joy and fulfillment filled Aziraphale's eyes and Crowley shared his own with him. The angel kissed the face he'd loved and longed for.

“Say it,” Crowley said.

“_Stay_.”


End file.
